


Things to Ruin

by Random_Fandom_writer



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anxiety, Because Evan is hella gay for Connor, Connor Deserves Happiness, Depression, Evan Hansen Has Anxiety, Everything is for plot and it leads to some sad times, Fluff and Angst, Gay Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Gay Evan, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Secret Crush, Shhh don't tell him it's a secret, Still Fluffy, The fluffiest thing I've written, secret friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-09-23 23:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20348353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Fandom_writer/pseuds/Random_Fandom_writer
Summary: Evan doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He chalks it up to something he did in a past life.But things don’t stick, and he can’t stay happy forever. Evan’s had his good, now he’s just waiting for the bad. He wants to be ready, to be prepared for whatever life can throw at him.He thinks he’s making it worse.Or...You probably think you know where this is going. I assure you, you don't





	1. July 2nd

**Author's Note:**

> I want to take some time world building before I jump straight into the main focus point. I hope it's ok with y'all if the first dozen chapters are just interactions between the characters. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I think. Man I fuckin hope so.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meetings. Evan has a big gay crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowowow ok first chapter.
> 
> Story title is from Joe Iconis' album "Things To Ruin" which is honestly so good and super underrated so y'all should check it out.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Anxiety, talks of drug use

Evan is not lost, and that is a fact.

Ok, maybe he is a little lost.

A lot lost.

Really fucking lost. He sort of feels like a stubborn dad refusing to ask for directions despite his wife's protests that they are _most definitely lost._

The thing is, Evan is not a stubborn dad. Just a very anxious fifteen year old. A very anxious fifteen year old who is hopelessly lost.

He _was_ trying to find the apple orchard, but he gave up on that dream a little while ago.

Evan wishes he could fly. If he could fly, he’d probably find it. He’d go _ up, up, up _ into the atmosphere and look down at the world from up high. It’d be the perfect vantage point for spotting the orchard,

And then he’d go _up, up, up_ into the stratosphere and_ ‘oh God nope, this was a bad idea, put me down.’_ So just like that, he’d float _down, down, down_ and back to the ground. Back to where he started.

Scratch that. Evan doesn’t want to fly, he thinks as he mentally adds _heights_ onto his _List of Things That Make Evan Anxious._

Maybe not all heights though. He’s more afraid of the feeling. The feeling of floating, untethered, able to just drift up and away into the sky, never to be seen again. He crosses out _heights_ and replaces it with _disappearing_. That’s better, more fitting.

And maybe what happens next is pure coincidence, but as he continues on, he sees a bent and broken sign, paint chipping from the faded lettering. Autumn Smiles Apple Orchard.

He feels like he’s in a movie. In movies, it’s only once the main character admits to being hopelessly lost that they find where they’re supposed to be going. Maybe he’s in a movie. Would that make him the main character? He wouldn’t make a good main character. He’d probably mess everything up and wreck someone's life. He doesn’t want to wreck someone's life. He doesn’t want to be in a movie.

Or maybe this is like that one film, _‘The Truman Show’_ . That whole movie was messed up in so many ways. Isn’t it kind of illegal to broadcast someones life without telling them? Yeah that is definitely a breach of privacy. Maybe that’s happening to him. Maybe he’s on _‘The Evan Show,’_ and secret cameras are watching his every move right now. That’s unnerving, and Evan can’t help but add that onto the _List of Things That Make Evan Anxious._

His life’s too boring to be in a movie anyway. It’s probably fine. Just a coincidence.

***

The orchard is not what Evan was expecting.

He expected open fields framed with trees, thick, luscious grass, and apples hanging precariously from the branches.

Instead, he gets rotting fruit and bark mulch.

Ok. This is fine. Totally fine. It’s not like Evan just spent two hours trekking in the summer heat to be met with this. Goddammit.

“What the fuck.” A voice sounds from behind him, and he lets out a squeak as he startles. “Holy shit you sound like a mouse.”

Evan spun around to meet the voice, and felt himself disintegrate, deteriorate, become one with the ground, because this boy must be the prettiest thing since Jeremy Sumpter in '_Peter Pan.'_

The boy is leaning up against a rotting tree, eyes bright with amusement and a small smirk quirking up the corners of his lips. His hair- which is the perfect shade of brown Evan notes- comes down above his neck, but below his ears, as if he’d been neglecting cutting it for a while. It looks a bit awkward, which is fine since the rest of him is fucking perfect. He seemed like the kind of guy people would write poetry about.

Yeah, he'd write poetry about him. He's gonna do that later.

“Um, Earth to Squeak.”

And just like that their moment was over. Or, his moment was over. God, he must have looked like a creep. “Sorry, what?”

“Jus’ trying to get your attention.”

“No, I meant- you called me Squeak?” His face warms uncomfortable and- he's blushing isn't he? Evan’s sure he's blushing. Damn.

His eyes go wide, as if he's just realizing what he said, but it’s replaced with a cool, nonchalant look. “Oh, since you squeaked when I- nevermind it’s stupid.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair, seemingly unbothered, even though he's pretty sure he's embarrassed. Evan is an expert on embarrassment.

And now he is realizing his mistake. His very grave mistake.

“Wait no, it’s fine you can- you can call me Squeak,” and Evan is left pretending that he will not literally die if the nickname is bagged. “What- what should I call you?” Was that smooth? He thinks it was smooth.

He takes a few steps forward, holding out a hand to shake. “Connor.”

It’s not what he expected, and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Conner was the name of that kid in fourth grade who stuck a glue stick up his nose, and Evan really doesn't want to associate this Connor with glue stick Conner. Maybe it’s spelt differently, although he supposes that’d be a weird thing to ask.

“I’m- I’m Evan. Hansen. Evan Hansen, sorry.” He looks down, wiping a sweaty hand on his jeans and gripping his hand. It’s cold, which is weird since they’re in 80 degree heat. Although Connor is wearing a hoodie so maybe he’s just _really_ cold. Or maybe Evan has warm hands. Warm, sweaty, weird hands.

“Why? Are you sorry?”

“Well just because- I said my name? But then I repeated it which is so- it’s just _so_ annoying when people do that.”

Connor looks at him oddly and Evan think’s he’d rather fly then be here in this moment because now he probably hates him, and he’ll go tell all his stupidly beautiful friends how _dumb_ and _awkward_ Evan Hansen is and-

“Hey relax, it’s fine. I’m not bothered by it.”

Evan doesn't know what sways him to believe him. He thinks he’d believe Connor if he told him that _'The Fault in Our Stars'_ should be considered a classic.

“So what brings you here?”

Evan flashes a goofy smile, scanning the field. “I… Like trees.” He hears a breathy chuckle and turns to see Connor shaking his head in amusement.

“Oh my God. You ‘like trees.’ You’re just adorable, aren’t you?”

Evan explodes.

Not really. In reality, his face flushes, and his legs feel a little wobbly, but it feels like he explodes.

Connor continues, apparently oblivious to Evan’s mini breakdown. “I don’t think you’ll find much here. It’s… Not been looking too good.” He gestures to the rotting remnants. “As you can see.”

“Then why are you here?” He scrunches up his face, and Evan immediately regrets asking. “Oh- that’s- you _so_ don’t have to tell me that I'm sorry I-”

“Squeak?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

At the blonds flinch, he curses. “I mean- sorry, fuck. I’m an ass.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It's. Yeah... My family used to come here when I was little, so. It holds some... Happy nostalgia I guess.” He pauses before adding, “plus, nobody’s here to yell at me for getting high, so there’s that too.”

That. Actually makes sense. It sure explains why he's even talking to him, and now that he’s closer, he can definitely smell something on him. He thinks he’s smelt it on Jared a couple times. His eyes look a little red as well, and now he’s staring into his eyes because _whoa._

They’re blue with a spot of brown in the corner. Heterochromia, he thinks it’s called. Evan’s starting to get a bit frustrated with how pretty they are. His are just brown. Plain, boring brown. Everybody has brown eyes. Well, everyone except Connor apparently.

What were they talking about?

Oh, right. Orchard, Young Connor, drugs.

He laughs, because he really doesn't know what to say to that. Connor seems to appreciate it though. Mental high five for Evan.

“So um, what year are you in?”

“Ah, Junior. I’m going into Junior year.”

Evan has to hold back a bounce of excitement. “Oh, me too. Um, maybe we’ll be in the same class or something.”

“Doubt it.” And just like that Evan is stomped into the ground like a bug. “I go to the boarding school up state.” he nods, pretending as if his entire life has not just been ruined. “Larry said it’d be good for me, keep me outta trouble but. Here I am.”

Evan wants to ask who Larry is. He doesn’t, mainly because Connor looks like he’s about to cut a bitch at the mere mention of his name. “You don- don’t seem like much trouble.”

“Yeah, and you don’t know me.” His words come out harsher than Evan had expected, and he flinches back. That’s on him he supposes. Making assumptions. '_Stupidstupidstupid.'_

“Um, maybe I want to?” It comes out as a question, although he really didn’t mean it as such. “We could… Do this again. Sometime. I mean, only if you want to, I’m not gonna force you or anything-” he cuts himself off when he realizes he's rambling. Connor looks a bit bewildered. Is that a good thing? 

He's saved from overthinking it when a phone is placed in the palm of his hand. 

“For your number. Just- type it in. We can text sometime.” When he looks up, Connor’s eyes are elsewhere, anywhere but Evan or the phone, and it doesn't take much to realize he’s embarrassed.

He types in his number, saving it in his phone as _‘Evan.’_ He tuts when he’s handed the phone back, and when Evan looks at the screen, he sees the name change from _‘Evan’_ to _‘Squeak.’_

“I should go. But uh, I guess I’ll text you.” Evan nods back, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

As he turns to leave, he scrunches his eyes shut, calling out to Connor. “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Um. Can you show me how to get back to town?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back in school now so I will not be writing very much, BUT I have fifteen pre written chapters so I'll release those periodically. Hopefully I'll never leave y'all waiting on chapters.
> 
> I had to look up how to convert Celsius to Farenarenheiheght or however you spell it for this. Also, a soft more? junior? Why would a junior not be year one? What is a fresh man? What is so fresh about him? America is wild man.


	2. July 2nd, 3rd, and 4th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They hang out like bros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this came out later than I thought it would, mainly because I re-wrote the entire second chapter because I didn't like the other one. And I've only edited it once, so forgive me if it's a little shaky I just really wanted to get this out.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Evan is anxious, but what else is new?

“How the fuck-”

“I'm sorry, I'm really stupid.”

They’re both laughing, and Evan thinks he wants to tattoo the sound onto his skin. 

“Literally all you had to do was walk down the main road until you reach A La Mode, turn onto the side road, and you’re there. How did that take _ two hours?” _

“I don’t _ know _.”

* * *

It’s been two days since Connor walked Evan home and he is totally not panicking. 

he’s totally panicking. 

Because he probably misread the situation entirely and in reality, Connor hates him and every word that leaves his mouth. Is Connor even his real name?

He very briefly considers sending him a _ Happy Fourth of July _text before realizing that it’s Connor that has his number, and Evan never actually got his. 

What if he gave him the wrong number, although he’s 100% certain that he knows his number by heart. Maybe his finger slipped and he typed a three instead of a two and Connor texted _ that _ number, and it wasn’t Evan so he thought that he gave him a fake number, and now Connor _ really _hates him.

He’ll never see him again will he? Because Connor will disappear off to his fancy rich people boarding school and Evan will go back to his nasty public school with Jared who hates him, and kids who hate him, and teachers who also probably hate him. 

Is Connor rich? That’s not something Evan usually thinks about upon meeting someone new- not that he ever meets new people- but he goes to a boarding school. Aren’t those crazy expensive? Or maybe he earned an all paid scholarship and he’s secretly a genius or something.

He doubts Connor’s a genius. Not that Connor _ couldn't _ be a genius, (because with his face, he could be anything he wanted) but because he was high when they met, and that doesn’t seem like something a smart person would do. And now Evan’s assuming something about someone he doesn’t even know, and that is a bad thing, he should never assume. _ Some _people can be super smart and super high at the same time. Maybe. He doesn’t really know how drugs work.

Evan’s still panicking, and all his hell brain has come up with is that Connor is hot, rich and/or genius, and hates him with a burning passion. 

He’s only really 100% sure on the first one. 

***

*** *** ****: hey squeak

*** *** ****: its connor

It _ is _spelt with an ‘o’. 

Which really shouldn’t be what Evan focuses on, and rather the fact that ‘_ Connor is texting me oh god oh god oh god-’ _

The first thing he does after the initial panic, is save the number in his phone. The second thing he does is try to think of a funny play-on-words thing to keep as his contact name, but since Evan is Not Funny, he just types in Connor and leaves it at that.

_ Hello Connor. _Nope, too formal. Delete.

_ Hi Connor! _Fuck, back, go back. Way too excited.

_ Hey, what’s up? _

Perfect.

Squeak: Hey, what’s up?

Connor: my parents are pissy that i came home late

He frowns, typing a reply.

Squeak: Sorry.

Connor: not your fault 

Connor: they would have been mad anyway

Connor: so technically im grounded but i wanted to ask if you want to go to the orchard tomorrow

Evan would be lying if he said he didn’t giggle like a schoolgirl.

Squeak: Yeah, sounds awesome! 

Oh God, that was too eager wasn’t it? He shouldn’t have used an exclamation point, that sounds so creepy, he's a creep. 

Connor: cool

Maybe not. 

Squeak: But if you're grounded, I don't want to get you into more trouble.

Connor: i never listen to them anyways

Connor: but if i drop off the face of the earth assume that larry has murdered me

Evan can't tell if he's joking, and he honestly doesn't think he wants to know. He hesitantly types a 'lol' and prays to whatever deity that Connor is kidding, and whomever Larry is will not legitimately murder him. He doesn't think he could handle the blood on his hands.

Connor: dont get lost this time im not going to wait if youre late

Ha, that rhymed. Evan wonders if he did that on purpose.

Squeak: Deal, what time?

Connor: i dont wake up until like 12 so

Connor: 1?

Squeak: Sounds good, see you then.

That wasn’t a _ complete _ disaster. 

He can only hope for the same tomorrow.

* * *

This is totally a disaster. 

They’re walking side by side. In silence. 

Very. Awkward. Silence. 

Evan hates silence. He considers it to be very high up on his _ ‘List of Things That Make Evan Anxious.’ _ For many reasons, mostly because there’s a point when the silence gets _ too awkward _that you can’t even say anything because it’d be weird to speak, and there really is no going back from that point. So you end up with more awkward silence because both of you are too afraid to say anything, and you end up weighing the probability of jumping in front of a bus and surviving. 

“Do you know how to do this?”

There it is. God, Evan was starting to think he’d either have to prompt a conversation, or get hit by the nearest bus. 

And now it’s a little less awkward, because Connor broke the barrier and that’s a good thing. Or it would be a good thing if Evan knew what he was talking about.

“Do what?”

“Just like- interact. With people.” 

“You’re asking the wrong person.” He receives a chuckle from that, and wow he must be starved for approval because damn that felt good. “I was sort of hoping you would know.”

“Do you want to…” He trails off, thinking. “Play twenty questions?”

“Do people actually do that, or is that just something you read about people doing?” 

“I don’t fucking know, and I don’t fucking care.”

***

Evan learns a lot about Connor.

Like how his favorite colour isn’t actually black, rather a deep purple that happens to be very close to black. Or that despite how he looks, he’s a slut for Shakespeare- Connors words. Or how at one point, they did go to the same school, although he transferred in seventh grade. Evan silently curses his past decision to not splurge on a yearbook. He’d give almost anything to see middle school Connor. He probably had braces. How else would his teeth be so perfect? 

***

By the end of it, they both feel slightly less awkward, and there’s no longer a silence bubble around them.

Actually, there is no silence at all, because Evan is currently rambling about some tree fact he learned from a late night Wikipedia search, and barely remembering to breathe between sentences. That should make him anxious. His cheeks should flush as he suddenly clams up and brings his hands to wring with the hem of his shirt, all while stuttering out far too many apologies then necessary. 

He doesn’t. 

He thinks about stopping, but then he looks over at Connor who is giving him his full attention, and nodding, and looking actually interested in what he has to say. 

Is this what being listened to feels like? Because Evan could really get used to this whole talking thing.

And then it’s Connor’s turn to talk, while Evan gives him his full attention, and nods, and looks interested in what he has to say because _ he is. _ He is interested, because Connor’s eyes light up, and his hands move from his sides to wave animatedly as he re-tells a story he’s probably never had the chance to tell anyone before and it’s _ fucking great. _ Connor is great.

***

When the afternoon heat starts to become unbearable (for Evan. Connor is apparently an ice box) they leave with promises to text each other later, which will actually be kept. 

And it’s good. 


	3. July 7th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys hang out again, and it doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to sure about this one lads. Feels like it progressed to quickly. Oh well.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Connor being angry, panic attacks, self inflicted injury (trees are not meant for punching Connor)

Evan's hanging out with Connor again today, and he sort of hates to admit to himself how excited that makes him. He shouldn't be so starved for interaction.

***

"How'd you sneak out?" Is the first thing he asks when they meet each other in the orchard, because he's still technically grounded which Evan pretends not to be freaking out about. He really doesn't want him to get in trouble.

Connor hums, picking a mushy apple from the ground. "I've become sort of an escape artist. Not to brag or anything." He pauses, staring intently at the apple in his palm. "Do you think I'd die if I ate this?"

"Probably."

"Good." He takes a bite, and Evan can only gape in horror.

He pinpoints the exact moment it hits his taste buds.

He immediately opens his mouth, letting the apple chunk fall to the ground. "Oh my God _why _did you let me do that," he squawks, as he hacks spit onto the forest floor. "I think I'm gonna have to remove my tongue." And Evan can't help but laugh, because Connor is attempting to speak without letting his tongue touch the rest of his taste buds, so it sounds more like _'I ink mm gnna ha tuh memove myh tongue.' _

"I didn't think you'd _actually_ _do it_ what the fuck Connor."

"Do you have any water or something? I can still taste it." He seems to have given up on not letting his tongue touch, because it's back in his mouth where it should be.

"That's what you get." He gets a harsh shove in response, causing Evan to go flying sideways with an almost comical _"Mwah." _

When he looks back, Connor's folded in on himself, hands returning to his pockets as he scrunches up his face with what Evan can detect with regret and anger. It's replaced with relief when he bursts out laughing. "Oh my God, did you hear that? I sound like Waluigi,"

"Who's Waluigi?"

"You- you don't know who Waluigi is? Like, from Mario. The videogame?" He shakes his head in reply. "Of course not. Your mom was probably one of those parents that was convinced video games would lead to a _life of crime and violence_ or something."

"Well I think we can safely say it wasn't the video games."

Evan doesn't really know what that means. He doesn't ask, because he has a feeling that would make Connor upset, and he's only just made him smile again.

***

For whatever reason, they click. 

Evan doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He chalks it up to something he did in a past life. 

But things don’t stick, and he can’t stay happy forever. Evan’s had his good, now he’s just waiting for the bad. He wants to be ready, to be prepared for whatever life can throw at him. 

He thinks he’s making it worse.

Because _ so much _ can go wrong, and Evan keeps finding new things to add to his _ List of Things That Make Evan Anxious. _Things he’s never really had to think about before, because it’s not like he has many personal relationships to worry about screwing up. Thing's to ruin.

***

It's when Connor gets a phone call that he knows he was right.

"What."

Connor falls silent, and Evan assumes the person on the other end of the line is speaking now.

"Since when do you care where I am?" He growls, lip curling. "Yeah, I'm _smoking crack Larry._ Caught me red handed."

Evan feels like he shouldn't be watching this. Yeah, he most definitely should not be watching this. He averts his gaze, studying the ground.

_"Fine."_ He hangs up, clenching his fist tightly before throwing his phone at the tree closest to Evan. He yelps, scrambling out of the way as the phone hits the trunk and falls to the ground.

Evan almost misses the spark of regret across his features before he rounds on him.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like _ that.” _ He gestures to Evan as if that’s enough clear everything up. It’s not. “Like I’m some fucking… _ Freak.” _

Evan refuses to flinch, because he thinks that's all Connor would need to confirm he's right, even though he's not right because Connor is not a freak.

"You think I'm a freak, right? ** _Right?"_ ** He clenches his jaw. "Well. I'm not the freak.” A finger jabs into Evan’s chest. It’s weirdly intimidating. “You're the _ fucking freak." _

He doesn't answer, doesn't even let himself react even though it hurts. Mainly because it's true, but he doesn't want him to know that. Yet.

**_"Why aren't you reacting?" _**His fist collides with the tree trunk, and he gasps, clutching his hand close to his chest as his legs give out.

He breaks.

He watches as he cradles his fist, breath quickening while he inspects the damage. He looks like he's about to cry and Evan gets the overwhelming urge to hug him. He doesn't. He's not sure how Connor would react to physical touch at the moment.

"Why haven’t you- _ fucking leave. _" The anger is back, replacing the tears momentarily, before _that _takes over and he's back to holding tears in again.

He walks forward, sitting cross legged in front of him.

"Do you want me to?"

He shrugs, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know."

Neither of them speak for a while, the only sound being Connor's sharp breaths.

"Evan?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you-" He breaks off, shifting uncomfortably. "Never mind."

"Nonono tell me."

He hesitates, eyes darting to the ground. "Can you hug me?"

Evan feels something break inside of him. "Yeah. Yeah I can do that." He slides forward, their knees clacking together as he wraps his arms around the others waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. They haven't known each other for long, definitely not long enough for this to feel comfortable, but it does for some reason, because he instantly feels Connor melt into him, which makes Evan melt a little bit too.

"I- I think your phone is a little broken."

He laughs shakily. "Yeah, just a little."

"And your hand. I should really take a look at that."

"Later."

"That's fine."

***

Eventually, they break apart, Evan insisting on looking after his hand, which is starting to turn purple.

"I've had worse."

"That doesn't mean you should suffer." He receives a blank look, which Evan returns with one of his own. "Let me ice it."

***

"Fuck, that _hurts_."

He straightens his fingers, three of which are bruised. "Yeah, that's sorta what happens when you punch a tree." Evan doesn't have much experience with that, but he did once punch a wall and put four of his knuckles out of commission. They weren't broken, but they did hurt like a bitch, and he had to write with his left hand for three days while they healed.

"Well I know that _now."_

He smiles, grabbing a couple flat toothpicks. "So I'm just gonna tape these to your fingers to keep them straight. You don't wanna bend them too much."

"Quite the MacGyver."

"Or not. Suffer b-bitch." He stutters over the swear. He doesn't want to offend Connor by calling him a _b-bitch _('_which just sounds stupid by the way, nice going Evan_.') because he's really not that comfortable swearing _at _someone yet.

And suddenly Evan's not worried anymore, because he laughs, speaking through a smile. "Wait, it's a good thing fuck. Please, my fingers really hurt." 

***

As it turns out, Connor’s phone isn’t too damaged, thanks to the life-proof case he donned after he threw it at the wall one to many times.

Evan seems more relieved than Connor. Mainly because they'd be unable to text if he didn't have a phone anymore. Partially because the thought of losing or breaking a phone is enough to make his heart stop. Phones are _expensive._

***

"I don't want to go home."

"Then stay."

"Are your parents ok with that?"

He sighs, squeezing the discarded bag of frozen peas Connor had been using as a DIY icepack. "My mom's um. Not home very much so. She probably won't even notice. And my dad lives in Colorado with- with his new family, so I don't think he'll mind all that much either."

"Oh."

He shakes his head, scrunching his eyes shut. "Ok, that's enough sad shit for today."

"Uh, yeah." Connor chuckles, staring down at the makeshift finger cast. "Yeah it is."

Today was disastrous, Evan concludes. And maybe that isn't so terrible, because he can't expect every day to be picture perfect.

Tomorrow will be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had to say that sentence out loud without letting my tongue touch any other part of my mouth to see how it would sound. Try it, I dare you. You'll look like an absolute idiot but- yeah, no there's no but in this situation. You'll look like an absolute idiot. That's it.
> 
> Bruised fingers hurt like a bitch, oh my god they're terrible. I didn't punch anything though, just crushed my fingers in a door and fucked them up. And true story, I did actually DIY myself a finger cast out of tape and flat toothpicks and it WORKED.


	4. July 7th (Continued)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two dumbasses bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: None

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he fishes it out, reading over the text.

Mom: Don't forget!! You have an appointment with Dr. Sherman tomorrow. There are leftovers in the fridge so you don't have to order out. Love you!

Evan feels his breath take a vacation. Somewhere far away he thinks, because he certainly can't find it.

It's not that he doesn't like therapy.

Maybe he doesn't really like therapy. Only because most times he comes out feeling worse than when he went in.

He walks in feeling like slightly stale bread. Drained, stiff, and gross, (He feels that gross is a little bit harsh, but it's true nonetheless.) and comes out soggy. Like soggy bread, and what is worse than soggy bread?

But it's supposed to help him. He hopes it'll help him. He just needs to warm up to it, that's all.

“Squeak. You ok?”

He flinches. He doesn’t mean to, he just does. And Connor has a sort of intimidating voice. Very firm, very loud. Surprisingly nasally, but not in a bad way. 

He wishes he wasn’t so goddamn nervous all the time, because now Connor probably thinks he hates him, which is far from true, and he _ really _doesn’t want Connor to think he hates him or for Connor to hate Evan, so he has to say something quick. Make a recovery. Something simple, and fulfilling, but also a little bit witty because he wants to hear Connor laugh again.

He groans, slamming his head onto the counter.

Nailed it.

“Oh shit ok, I’ll take that as a no.” And now Connor is setting down his water on the table and crossing Evan’s small kitchen to meet him. That's nice of him.

“I should not have done that.” His voice is slightly muffled, probably due to the fact that his face is still planted on the counter. 

“Yeah. You really shouldn’t have.”

“My face hurts.”

“No shit Sherlock, let me see.” 

He lifts his head, wincing. 

“Your nose doesn’t _ look _ broken.” He cups a hand under his chin- a bit awkwardly due to the finger cast- and Evan feels his heart stop. “Tell me if this hurts.” He reaches out, flicking the side of his nose, and Evan feels his heart stop again, this time for a _ completely _different reason.

_ “Fuck- Shit- why did you do that?” _

Connor releases his hold on his face. “Well it’s not broken. You’d be fuckin sobbing right now if it was.” 

He doesn’t reply, only gets up to retrieve the package of frozen peas he'd just returned to the freezer.

“Do you wanna rant?”

“What?”

Connor shrugs, picking at his nail polish. They look really good. Maybe Evan’ll ask him to teach him someday. “Something’s bothering you. I can listen.”

Evan smiles, because he can tell Connor genuinely cares. “You’re not a therapist. I can’t just unload my shit onto you.”

“Fair.” he smirks. “If it’d make you feel better you could pay me.” And now Connor is being shoved playfully, and Connor shoves back just a little to hard, because he stumbles back with a gasp, leeching onto Connors hoodie, and causing both of them to crash to the ground.

“Squeak, what the fuck.” There’s that laugh again. It’s infectious, and now Evan is laughing, and they’re both laughing in a tangle of limbs on the kitchen floor.

***

Connor is watching the tv. Evan is not.

Instead, he watches as Connor shifts in his seat, the tension loosening from his shoulders as he finally lets himself relax. Watches the way his eyes flicker and the way he leans forward slightly when a scene gets intense, as if he’s unaware he’s doing so.

He thinks he likes this whole friendship thing.

And apparently he can't be content for one second because now he's hitting rewind.

Friend. Friendship. The 'F' word.

_'Is he really your friend though? You've only hung out twice- including now, he's probably just staying because he doesn't want to hurt your feelings.'_

_'Or he could hate you.'_

"Connor?"

"Hmm?"

He wrings his hands together, hesitating. "Are we friends?"

"I like to think we are. You've already seen me have an emotional breakdown so."

He smiles. "Yeah um, good. _Not_ the breakdown, the, uh. Friends thing."

"Yeah, it uh, it is good."

"One more thing."

"Yep?"

"Thank you."

Connor frowns, turning to face Evan. "For what?"

"I... Don't know yet. Just felt like thanking you."

"I should be thanking you."

"How about we thank each other and call it even?"

"Deal."

* * *

Connor has to go eventually of course. The fact that Evan knows that doesn't make him any less disappointed.

"So when I get home I'll probably be shot on sight."

"Uh, yeah." He laughs, worrying the hem of his tee shirt between his fingers.

"So don't worry if you don't hear from me for a few days."

"I won't." He will.

"Ok."

"Ok."

"I'm gonna leave now."

Neither of them move.

They laugh, and Evan gives Connor a nudge out the door. "I'll- I'll talk to you sometime in the future then I guess."

"I'll be waiting."

"Bye Connor."

"Bye Squeak."

He shuts the door, resisting the urge to rush out and pull Connor back inside.

His mom is going to be so excited when she hears about this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think I'm funny. Seriously, I laugh way to hard at my own jokes.


	5. July 8th & 13th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has some damn good puppy eyes. Evan does something illegal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Drug use, talk of underage drinking

Connor:  hey

Squeak:  I thought you were murdered.

Squeak: Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you’re alive, but I thought you were grounded.

Connor: i am

Evan's not an expert on groundings, but from what he can tell from the movies, this is not it.

Connor:  cynthia pleaded my case. i get to keep my phone. cant leave the house though

Connor:  whats up?

_ I had a thera- _ too much information.

_ I had a doctors appointment. _

Better.

Squeak:  Nothing much. Just got back from a doctors appointment. 

Connor:  sounds sucky

Connor:  you dying or something?

_ Only on the inside. _That’s dark. Back, back, back. He goes to press the delete button.

He hits send.

Squeak: Only on the inside.

_ ‘Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-’ _

Connor:  lol same

Oh. 

Ok, maybe that wasn’t so bad. 

Squeak:  When are you un-grounded? 

Is that a weird question? Just in case he continues.

Squeak:  I don’t know how these things work, I’ve never been grounded before. 

Connor:  cynthia usually gives in after a week

Connor:  youve never been grounded?

Squeak:  No.

Connor:  thats it

Connor:  when im out of here we are gonna do something illegal

Squeak:  I don’t have a say in this do I?

Connor:  nope

Could this be counted as peer pressure? He sort of assumed it was a myth they told you in elementary school to scare you. He could always just say no. 

He doesn’t think he wants to say no.

Squeak: Ok.

His D.A.R.E officer would be so disappointed.

* * *

He stares at the joint in his hand. “How do I do this?” 

Connor plucks it from his hand. “Here, hold it like this, and inhale it into your lungs.” He demonstrates, taking in the smoke with ease. “Make sure to breathe, or you’ll just cough. But you’ll probably do that anyways.”

Evan feels like he should be regretting agreeing to this. That would be the Evan thing to do. It’s what happened the time Jared tried to convince him to drink the stolen wine from his parents alcohol cabinet when they were thirteen. To be truthful though, he ended up trying it a year later willingly. Now, the only alcohol he has qualms against is vodka. Vodka is a bitch. 

“I’m gonna fuck this up. Ok.” He brings the joint to his lips, inhaling the smoke into his lungs like Connor told him.

And immediately starts coughing. 

Connor slaps him on the back as he hacked, taking the joint from his hand. “You’ll get used to it. Wanna try again?”

***

He didn’t get the hang of it. 

He thinks that’s ok, because even if his throat burns, his body feels light, and Connor is smiling contently at him as they sit side by side against a tree. 

“See, I’m much more pleasant like this I think.” 

Evan smacks the others shoulder. “Don’t say that, I think you’re delightful.” He lets out a giggle, leaning his head on his shoulder. Sober Evan would never do this. Sober Evan would be blushing and stuttering and probably shaking a little bit. 

He likes being high. It’s a lot less messy than alcohol. Alcohol is fun for a little bit until it starts to get really late, and the whiskey stops working the way it should, and you wake up with your head on fire and a bad taste in your mouth, and regret every life decision you've ever made-

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re overthinking something,” Connor said, screwing up his nose. “Don’t.”

“Ok.”

***

The sun had started to set ten minutes ago, which means it’ll get dark soon. 

“We should head back.” He goes to stand, pausing when Connor grabs hold of his arm.

“Just a little longer. Please.”

Evan thinks Connor must be some sort of witch with how easy it is for him to convince him to do things. 

Logically, he knew if he didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. But the other part of him wants to humor the idea that Connor is a spell casting witch, who has taken hold of his soul. Maybe then Evan could convince himself that he hasn’t turned him into a complete pushover.

“Ten minutes. I want to beat my mom home, she’s off early tonight.”

Yeah, Connor is definitely a witch.

***

His mom’s car is in the driveway when he arrives home, and Evan feels an all too familiar rush of anxiety. He briefly thanks whatever deity exists that his high has worn off. 

“Where were you?”

He briefly considers telling her he was at Jared’s, although the chances that he’ll cover for him are slim.

“I called the Kleinmans, and they said they haven’t seen you for weeks.”

Ok, that option is out.

He could tell her the truth. That he’s made a friend. She’d be so proud of him, and it’s not like he wasn’t planning on it a week ago.

A week ago.

It’s been a week since he’s seen her, and Evan feels a sudden rush of bitterness. He shouldn’t have to tell her things like this when she barely bothers to say hello in the mornings. She shouldn’t get the right to feel concerned, to ask where he was, to know every little thing about him when she hardly acts like a mother.

A piece of him tell himself that’s not fair to her. That she’s trying, that Evan can’t act selfish when all she does it support them, and he immediately feels guilty. He knows she’s trying her best. But what is he supposed to do when her best isn’t good enough?

“I was at Ellison.”

It startles him how easily the lie slides off his lips.

“I lost track of time, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Heidi nods, uncrossing her arms and advancing towards Evan. “Maybe send me a text when you’re going out next time. I was so worried.”

“Sorry.” 

She smiles, rubbing her hands along Evan’s arms. “That’s ok. I’m happy you’re not hiding in your room on your computer all day. Just make sure to warn me.”

“I will.”

She sighs, and Evan knows whatever she’s about to say, he’s not going to like. “Well I was hoping we could have dinner together, but you got home a little late.” He feels a rush of guilt. “I need to get to class, so you’ll have to eat without me.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“No, it’s fine.” He can tell it’s not fine. “It’s fine.” She grabs her bag, hesitating at the door. “I know.” She spins around, a wide smile spreading across her face. “How about I bag my shift next week. When was the last time we had a taco Tuesday?” 

“You don’t have to…”

“No, it’ll be fun. Something exciting to look forward to.” She nudges his shoulder. “I’m excited now.”

At his lack of enthusiasm, she drops her smile, playing with the handle of her bag. “I don’t know, I thought it’d be a neat idea.”

_ “No. _ Um, no it is. It’s great.”

“It’s a date then.” She stands awkwardly by the door, nodding. “Well I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to eat.”

“I won’t.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The door shuts. 

Her car pulls out of the driveway.

And Evan is alone.

His vision goes funny as his hands start to tremble. He should take his meds before this gets out of hand. 

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how weed works, but I feel like it was an obligatory scene.
> 
> Have you ever accidentally pressed send when you weren't supposed to? Because I sure have.
> 
> Also, The Politician was released today and I'm only half way done the season, step up your game.


	6. July 17th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some light angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: suicidal ideation (brief), talks of drug use, Heidi disappointing her son

“I’m heading out. There’s money on the counter, I want you to eat tonight.”

His hands pause on his keyboard.

“I thought we were gonna stay in tonight? Do tacos?” 

A look of realization spreads across her face, and Evan has a feeling they _won’t_ be doing tacos. “It’s Tuesday. Oh my God, oh honey I completely forgot. Shit.” 

“That’s ok,” he says, but it’s not. It’s not ok, because he had actually been _ genuinely _ excited about this, which sounds super lame because _ ‘who gets excited to hang out with their mom?’ _

Evan apparently. That makes him weird doesn’t it? Evan is so weird. 

She’s smiling that fake smile again. The one she uses when she wants to pretend that everything is ok. But everything is not ok, and soon Heidi is going to rush off to work, leaving Evan to spend the night weighing the pros and cons of ordering delivery instead of being goddamn normal for once, and just calling the pizza place like a functioning human being. “We can do another night. How about tomorrow? We can do tomorrow night.”

Heidi works the graveyard shift tomorrow night, it was in her planner. “Yeah, whatever works.” It won’t work.

If wishes were real, he thinks he’d wish for Heidi to have a free weekend, no consequences. Two days is practical. (He thinks if he wished for longer he wouldn’t want it to end.) And she deserves it. She deserves a nice, worry free weekend. Yeah, that’s what’d he’d wish for.

Now he’s down to one hypothetical wish, if you count the first one. He immediately took it back, but would an actual genie give him a free pass if he decided flying wasn’t all it cracked up to be? 

Probably not. Bastard. 

Flying wasn't that great of a wish. Maybe he could use it if Jared tied him to a rope or something. Just so he wouldn't float away. For safety.

“Go to work mom.”

***

Squeak:  Can you come over please?

Connor:  yeah sure

Connor:  you ok?

Now that’s a loaded question.

Is Evan ok? 

Overall, he’s… Messy. Yeah, he’s messy, and anxious, and sad a lot, and those are not traditionally _ ok _things, but it’s his normal. So maybe that for him could be considered ok. 

He’s a bit worse than messy right now. And if messy is ok, then he probably isn't ok. This is confusing.

Squeak:  I don’t know.

Connor:  thats fine

Connor doesn’t get it. It’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine. He shouldn’t be feeling less than fine, less than ok right now because really, it’s not a big deal. This has all happened before.

Connor:  unlock your door

***

“You should really just give me a key,” Connor says as he takes off his jacket. “I practically live here. Don’t be surprised when you come home and find out your bedroom has been stolen.”

“How does that- how would you steal a _ bedroom?” _

“Hey, don’t insult my logic.” He gives him a playful smack to the shoulder, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “I’m not at my… _ A game _ right now or whatever..” It takes a while to decipher his words as his face is mushed into the cushions.

“Actually, I don’t think anyone says _A game_ anymore.”

A beat.

“Connor, are you high?”

“Yes, no, maybe so.”

_“Connor.”_ This is not what Evan needs. Not at all. “You’re gonna get weed smell ingrained into the couch, what if my mom smells it?” _What if_ _Heidi smells it?_ She’ll think it was him. She’d be so disappointed in him, and probably ground him, and then she’d probably miss class to lecture him, and insist he goes to some drug therapy group thing, but he’s not even on drugs, and-

“Evan, calm down. Please.” He seems to realize how stupid his request his because he backs down. “Sorry, that was- this is dumb. I should go, I’m only stressing you out more-” His hand darts out, grabbing hold of his wrist as he goes to move.

_ ‘Please don’t go.’ _

_ ‘Please don’t leave, I’m scared.’ _

_ ‘I’m scared of what will happen if I’m alone.’ _

He doesn’t need to say any of it for it to be heard.

“Why are you high?” It could be for fun, but Evan can tell that’s not the case tonight.

“That depends on if you want to hear me rant. I don’t wanna freak you out or anything.”

Evan should say no. 

Evan should really say no.

He is _ not _ in a good place to hear about anyone else's shit when he can barely process his own. In a day or two, he can do this, but not now. He just wants to get a hug, cry, and sleep.

Maybe it’ll take his mind off of things. Maybe. Probably not. If anything it’ll just send him into a whirlpool of anxiety, because now he has _ two _people to worry about.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“So I broke my phone.”

"Oh?"

“But only the screen. It’s sorta-” he pulls out his phone, showing Evan the screen which is completely shattered. “Cracked a little bit. Just- Larry can be- _ God, _he’s an asshole.”

***

He lets him rant, and Connor was right. Larry is an asshole by the sounds of it.

“We should start a club. We could call it ‘The Shitty Parents Convention.’”

“Mom- my mom isn’t a shitty parent.” He says it a bit to quietly. It’s not like he really was looking for anybody to hear him anyway, but apparently Connor did, because he’s giving him a look that tells him to keep talking. “She- she’s good. She tries really hard, does everything- everything she can to help me, works her _ass_ off so I can go to therapy, an- and she goes to school." He doesn't know how she does all of it at once. "She’s gonna be a paralegal. I’m… Proud of her.” 

“Yeah, she sounds great.” He pauses, patting the seat beside him. “But that's not what you want is it?”

It’s not, it’s really not. Evan wants her to be _here _because that's what really matters.

He doesn’t deserve all she gives him. The therapy, the pills, it’s fucking expensive. Evan is expensive. And selfish, because he wants more, and Evan knows deep down that she’d have it much easier if Evan just-

No. 

Let’s not think about that right now.

Maybe Connor’s right. Maybe Heidi is a bit of a shitty parent. “Maybe she is. I don’t know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Maybe Evan is a bit of a shitty son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly feel bad for everyone who reads these chapters within a couple days of when I post them. Usually I post them, and then after a couple days I'll go along, edit, and make it better. So to all the people that read it before I give it a final edit, I sincerely apologize.


	7. August 2nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're practically dating already guys. Slow burn who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went from July 17th to August 2nd with no in between, and I'll probably be doing that a lot. The time skips are necessary for the story so I can keep it moving and get to the plot. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Panic attack (not descriptive)

Connor:  happy one month anniversary 

Squeak:  What?

Connor: its been a month since we met 

Connor: we should celebrate

Squeak: We should definitely celebrate. 

Connor: answer the door

Evan perks up, setting his phone on the kitchen counter, and walking to the door. 

“Squeak, how are you this _ lovely _morning.”

He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Slowly getting better.”

“Happy anniversary.” He shoves a small package into his arms. “I got you something for this very special occasion.” 

Evan's definitely in a movie. A horror movie that is.

The panic must have been evident on his face because Connor smiles reassuringly at him. “Don’t worry, I didn’t expect anything from you.” 

“I still feel bad.”

“For fucks sake- just let me in and open it.” He shoves past him, moving to sit on the kitchen counter. He huffs out a laugh, following his lead. 

Inside the package is a single muffin; lemon poppy seed. 

“Aw babe.” Evan brings a hand to clutch exaggeratedly at his heart. “You remembered my favorite.” He swoons, blowing a kiss to the brunet who makes a show of catching it.

“Of course, anything for you my love.” He laughs, swinging his feet. “But seriously, it was like, two dollars at McDonald’s you don’t owe me anything.”

“I feel like I should though.” He pauses before holding his arms out wide. “This is all I have to offer. Take it or leave it.”

Connor laughs, sliding off the countertop to meet him in a hug. “Free physical contact? Fuck yeah.”

“Ohhh, I forgot to tell you. It’s five dollars a hug. Sorry.”

“I’ve been _ conned.” _ He gasps, smacking his shoulder. 

“No, you’re not_ conned _ , you’re _ Connor.” _

***

“Has it seriously been a month?”

“Yeah.”

“That means we have to go back to school soon.”

“...Yeah.” Connor looks up from his phone, brows furrowed. “Don’t get depressing, I don't leave for another month.

“Yeah, but your living on campus so I won’t be able to see you.” 

“We can text still.”

It's not the same though. Obviously it's not the same. _Not saying _that texting Connor isn't good to, but Evan has always been a bit selfish. He's been happy recently, and he's not about to just give that up.

He's not ready to give it up, even though he _knows_ he has to. Eventually.

And now Evan is spiralling because eventually he'll have to go back to watching Jared play video games in his basement and sharing a bottle of booze on the days his mom work late and he doesn't want to stay in the empty house. Or to skipping meals because he can't even pick up the phone to order pizza. He _can't _go back to panicking in his bedroom because Heidi was ten minutes late, and she might have gotten into a car crash and died while Evan was at home and he never got to say he loved her before she left because he was angry with her for missing dinner again.

Evan's not ready to be alone again. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

“Evan, hey take a breather, you’re good.”

Oh.

He draws in a shaky breath, coughing as he attempts to exhale.

“Shit, um. Do you have pills for this? What can I do?” He grabs Evans hand, rubbing circles into his palm. 

He gestures in the direction of his room, closing his eyes. “Xanax. Box on the nightstand.” He feels the couch shift as Connor gets up to retrieve his medication. 

“Do you need water?” Evan shakes his head, unscrewing the cap and dry swallowing a pill. 

“Can you breathe with me please?” At Evan’s nod he continues. “Ok, um. Breathe in for four seconds. Good, that’s good. Now hold for seven, then exhale for eight seconds. Just like that, yeah good. You’re ok.”

***

“You ok?” 

His heads propped on Connor’s shoulder. It’s a bit of an awkward angle, and it sort of hurts but that’s ok. 

“Mhm, just-yeah.”

He huffs softly, wrapping an arm around Evan. "I don't know what that means."

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Just- we- it was good- a good day and I ruined it.”

Connor frowns, moving his hand to Evan’s hair. “You didn’t ruin anything. I don’t think you did. We’re good like this aren’t we?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

***

Connor has to leave sooner than either of them would like due to the fact that he snuck out again, and technically isn’t supposed to be here right now. They untangle themselves from each other relucantly, and Evan walks him to the door. Shoves him to the door. Connor's practically insisting to stay a little longer.

“-Just to make sure you’re ok.”

Evan wants to accept, he really does. But he also doesn’t want Connor to get into trouble because of him. That would be a very selfish thing. So he declines. “You should really get back before they notice. Ten minutes isn’t worth it when you’re grounded for another week.” 

It takes another minute of convincing before Connor begrudgingly leaves, huffing out a childish _ fiiinnee _ and letting Evan shove him out the door.

He doesn’t want to see him go. 

He wishes they could have stayed like that forever. Curled up together in a comfortable silence. Just being, living, existing together. 

There’s more to life than just them though, as much as Evan hates to admit it.

***

“What’d you get up to today?” 

“Nothing much.”

It sort of kills him that he’s not able to tell her the truth. But he knows with one thing, will come endless questions that seem more like interrogations, and he really doesn’t need that today.

“What’s this?” She gestures to the muffin sitting on the counter as she sets down her bag beside it, and Evan cringes. 

“Um, Jared came by today with coffee. He dropped that off for me.”

“Oh, well that was nice of him. You guys have been hanging out a lot recently haven’t you?” He bites his cheek, nodding. “I always knew you two were good for each other.”

He hasn’t spoken to Jared all summer.

“Yeah, uh. It’s been good.”

He doesn’t know if he can keep lying like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to look up McDonalds menu items to find out how much a muffin is.
> 
> And guys!!! Life update: Guess who just got a gf? That's right. Me. She's wonderful.


	8. August 6th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory "If I Could Tell Her" chapter. And a little bit of Jared being an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided that Friday/Saturday will be the day I update on. 
> 
> I don't know about this chapter boys, it seems sorta shaky but I'm too tired right now to refine it so you may want to wait a couple days until I come back and edit.

“You ok?” 

Evan had successfully, after much convincing, dragged Connor to Ellison State Park. 

***

_ “Come on, we always go to the orchard.” _

_ “We both like it there.” _

_ “Yeah, but I wanna go somewhere else.” He popped out his lip in a pout. “Pleeeaaassse?” _

_ “Fine, but next time we’re going to the orchard.” _

_ “Yep, deal, thank you.” _

_ *** _

But now as they’re stopped at another sightseeing spot, Evan can’t help but feel a little guilty. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to force you to stay if you don’t- are you not liking this? 'Cause we can go somewhere else.”

“No, it’s- you’re fine it’s nice.” He smiled tightly, digging his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets.

Evan doesn’t want to go mom mode, but he will if he has to. “Then what’s wrong?”

“Just thinking.” 

“About?” 

“I have a sister.”

“Oh. Really?” Evan looks over incredulously. “How am I _ just _ learning about this now?” He laughs awkwardly. They need to make more small talk.

He groans, resting his chin on his palm as he leans it on the wooden bridge their station at. “Because I didn’t tell you.”

“Is there a reason this is coming up now?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

He gives a cheeky smile. “You’re not a therapist. I can’t just unload my shit onto you.”

“Don’t use my own words against me.” A beat. “But like, you can talk to me if you want. It’s fine, all fine.”

He puffs out his cheeks, picking at the remains of his nail polish. “We aren’t close. Um, I've pretty much ruined our relationship. S'why I never brought it up.”

Evan may be a little biased, but he can’t really imagine Connor could have done it single handedly. He wants to tell him so, but he feels like this is one of those moments where he’s just supposed to listen.

“She hates me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“_No _ she does, she’s legitimately afraid of me.” He scrubs at his face, sighing deeply. “I’m terrible to her.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Of course I do.”

“Tell her.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “I can’t. I don’t know how I'd even... I'd fuck it up.”

“Tell me. What you’d say to her. Tell me until you’re brave enough to tell her.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It might help?”

He pauses, considering. “Ok… Ok yeah, um.”

“I guess her smile? That just sounds stupid but. When she’s like, actually happy she gets this little half smile. Like she’s just heard the funniest thing in the world, but it’s a secret and she can’t tell anybody. But then the way she smiles… It’s almost like she’s letting us in on the secret too.” He chews on his lip, the corner of his lips quirking up. “And when she gets bored she’ll draw on her jeans- which drives Cynthia bat shit insane- but she doesn’t- she hasn’t stopped doing it so. 

“She sounds awesome.”

“She is awesome.” When Evan looks over, his eyes are glassy. “I miss her. A lot.”

He puts a hand on his shoulder, spinning Connor to face him. “I don’t know what you’ve done to each other, I don’t know if it’s fixable, but you can try, and maybe that’ll be enough.”

***

There is still a lot Evan doesn’t know about Connor, and he’d rather not keep it that way. There is so much to learn, and Evan wants to learn all of it. He wants to be able to confidently tell someone his favorite artificial flavoring, what his preferred music genre is (He knows that one already. It’s 80’s rock), whether he puts the milk before the cereal or vise versa. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

It sounds a little creepy when he thinks about it too much. Mainly due to the fact that he’s only just found out he has a sister. He doesn’t even know his address, or even his fucking last name, (although he supposes that’s because he’s never asked) and he wants to know how he takes his cereal? 

He tells himself not to think so hard in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Connors.

***

Part of him feels afraid, afraid that he’s getting too attached too quickly. 

It’s probably due to the fact that he hasn’t had a real friend since the fourth grade when Jared realized the importance of being cool. 

He’s afraid of getting attached, because it won’t be long until Connor has to go, and Evan won’t see him for a long time and _ ‘Jesus Christ Evan, he’s not going to war, you’ll be fine.’ _

He’ll be fine.

***

Jared: you r coming over tomorrow

Evan: Am I?

Jared: my parents noticed that we r not hanging out

Jared: I told them I invited u over for dinner

Evan: You didn’t think to tell me this? What if I had plans?

Jared: I know u don’t 

Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.

He wants to tell him off. Say something like _ ‘believe it or not, my life doesn’t revolve around you Jared. You won't be seeing me at dinner, thank you very much.’ _

He won’t.

Instead, he’ll arrive at the Kleinman household ten minutes early because he doesn’t want to accidentally be late, so he’ll spend the remaining time watching Jared cyber bully twelve year olds on some video game Evan doesn’t know the name of until they’re finally called down for dinner, where they’ll sit in awkward silence until Evan puts them out of their misery and spews out some lie about his mom wanting him home before it gets late.

He doesn’t know why he tries with Jared anymore. He obviously doesn’t want him around, and let's face it. He’d be much better off without Evan there to drag him down. It makes their moms happy though, and he really doesn't feel like telling Heidi that Jared actually doesn’t like him, and to stop asking for them to hang out.

***

Connor: wanna hang tomorrow?

Squeak: Can’t. I have to go to dinner at Jareds.

Connor: jared?

_ A friend- _ no, that’s not right.

Squeak: Family friend.

Connor: what the fuck is a family friend?

Squeak: Basically our moms were friends, and we were forced together in elementary school, and now neither of us have the heart to tell them we don’t really like each other.

It’s close enough to the truth to sound true, because Evan likes Jared. He wants to be friends, he really does. Only it’s not what Jared wants so he backs off.

Connor: that is the saddest fucking thing ive ever heard oh my god

He sighs, biting his lip to keep it from trembling and swallowing the lump in his throat. 

Squeak: Yeah, I know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fact: I have never seen an IKEA in person, and I refuse to believe one exists until I do.


	9. August 12th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messages sent to this chat have been blocked by receiver. Click here for more information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Suicidal ideation, panic attack

Evan is tired, because his fucking medication somehow gives him both insomnia and drowsiness, and if that isn't the biggest bullshit you've ever heard you're wrong. He's been up since four AM, and there's only so much time you can spend scrolling through Instagram before it becomes more of a task than a leisure activity.

Squeak: Huzzah!

Squeak: That was weird, sorry.

Sent: 7:47AM

He waits. Waits. Waits. No reply.

Squeak: What's up?

Sent: 8:18AM

And now he's double texting, which sort of makes him want to erase every memory of himself from existence, because doesn't that just scream pathetic? The only thing making his heart race more is the fact that Connor has yet to reply, which means he probably thinks Evan is pathetic too and-

It's too goddamn early for this. 

And in a brilliant moment of word association, his brain tells him it's morning. Which means Connor's probably not awake yet.

He's really stupid after a total of no hours of sleep.

Would it be ludicrous of him to take a sleeping pill? Would that like, fuck with his other meds?

Screw it. If he dies he dies.

He rolls out of bed. Literally rolls. His torso twists off the bed, and he plants his hands into the carpet to drag the other half of his body off onto the floor in a weird lizard-esque fashion as gracefully as someone who has been awake for fifteen hours can.

The floor is really comfortable.

_'Stay on track Evan, oh my god.' _ He groans, stumbling to his feet and travelling to the bathroom medicine cabinet, pulling out his mothers neglected sleeping pills. But _not_ the strong tranquilizer sleeping pills she had before switching over to a weaker brand. He tried one of those last time and conked out for an entire day. Which. Would be nice, but it's not what he's going for.

Evan's zoning out again. Just. Staring at the pill bottle. He wonders what would happen if he took two. Three. Four. All of them. There's got to be at least eighty of them. He dumps out a handful, almost dropping all of them onto the floor in the process, and catching them against his body. 

Maybe today he'll just take the one.

* * *

When Evan wakes up he doesn't feel as refreshed as he'd like to be. His mouth is sticky with sleep taste. The sort of stale, gross taste that lingers in your mouth, and can only be cured by a nice, lukewarm glass of Night Water.

His joints pop satisfyingly as he sits up, reaching for his phone to check the time. Pausing, he stretches his arms and back until they both give loud cracks. 

Evan thinks he heard somewhere that you can brake a bone from cracking them too much.

He's gonna stop that now. Back to the phone.

No texts. A couple months ago that wouldn't have been a big deal, (because he didn't really have anyone to text in the first place) but Connor usually replies fast, and there's no reason for him to still be asleep at four in the afternoon.

Squeak: Remember that time you said Larry was going to straight up murder you? Because I know you were joking, but I’m starting to believe he finally snapped and did it. I think you were joking. I hope you were joking, because I’m starting to get a little worried.

He hesitates at the long paragraph. Is that too much? Should he try and shorten it? He hits send anyways, setting his phone down on his nightstand and flopping lazily onto the pillow.

A buzz emits from his phone, Evan immediately making a grab for it.

Wow, that's a little pathetic isn't it?

He opens the messaging app, reading the pop up on the screen.

_Messages sent to this chat have been blocked by receiver. Click Here for more information._

Oh.

He presses the link, grip tightening on his phone as he reads.

_Due to a violation of Our Guidelines regarding receivers privacy/safety/comfort, messages from sender have been blocked, and will no longer be processed. To file a complaint, Click Here._

Oh.

A moment passes, followed by a trembling exhale.

Oh god.

He scrolls up, searching, searching, searching for something, anything that could tell him _whywhywhy. _What did he do? How can he fix it?

Evan's panicking now, panicking badly. He sucks in a quick breath. Another, and another. He can't breathe, and all he can think is _'you fucked up, you really fucked up, what did you do Evan?' _

He should take his medication.

Medication.

And now he's back to thinking about the sleeping pills in the cabinet in the bathroom. And how there are a lot of them. He physically shakes his head, banishing the thought from his brain.

It doesn't really work, because it's back in the front of his mind, and he can't really _stop_ thinking about now, because Connor just _blocked him_. The one person he thought actually sort of kind of maybe liked him. Or tolerated him, Evan could take toleration over many other things.

Connor doesn't tolerate him. Connor hates him- no, Connor _loathes _him, which for some reason sounds much more spiteful.

Evan thinks he might be dying.

(And if that were the case, he doesn't really think he'd mind.)

He wants to apologize, desperately apologize, but first he has to know what he did in the first place. Was it the double text? He knew that was a bad move. Or does it go further back? Has Connor always _loathed _him? He can't have. Or maybe he could have. Evan doesn't know, he doesn't _know, _he needs to know, he needs to _fix it. _Needs to do something.

He reaches for his phone.

Squeak: I'm os sorry.

_Messages sent to this chat have been blocked by receiver. Click here for more information._

Squeak: for whaterb I did

_Messages sent to this chat have been blocked by receiver. Click here for more information._

Squeak: I'll stip bothering tou now

_Messages sent to this chat have been blocked by receiver. Click here for more information._

Squeak: I'm sorry

_Messages sent to this chat have been blocked by receiver. Click here for more information._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all sorry for disappearing for a few weeks and then hitting you with this.
> 
> Also, the "you have been blocked" message things were written by me, so sorry if they sound off, and not like a message that would be displayed if you were blocked in real life.


	10. August 12th (again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter nine, but from Connors POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Angry Connor, panic attacks, suicide attempt (off screen), Connor craving death
> 
> Have another chapter to make up for the fact that I am very behind schedule. We'll get back to regularly scheduled content soon.

Connor's parents are downstairs watching. Something. A reality TV show probably. Whatever it is, it's loud. He can almost hear it over Zoe's guitar, which she's conveniently chosen to practice right after he told them he was still trying to sleep. He checks the time. Just past eight in the morning.

That's like. Practically the middle of the night.

It's never quite in the Murphy household, and it fucking pisses him off.

He'd like some quite for once, why can't they be quiet? _Connor _is quiet.

He'll get some quiet when he's dead apparently.

Zoe sure isn't one for headphones, because now her one woman guitar show is over and has now been replaced with a radio station that apparently, exclusively plays the best hits of 2012.

Ah yeah. _Beauty and a Beat._ A classic.

He groans, picking up the nearest object and lobbing at the wall. Hard. **"Shut _up." _**

And goddammit. That was his phone he just threw. He swears under his breath, scrambling out of bed to inspect the damage. A fresh crack appears in the corner, and luckily it's not to big or noticeable because Larry would have a fit if he knew he broke it. _Again._

He doesn't have time to be worried about it because the music has stopped and Zoe is shouting **_"daaaaad,"_ **and that is _really_ something to be worried about.

_"Young man, don't make me come up there." _And great. Now the TV is paused too, and Connor thinks he'd much rather prefer the noise than this. _'Stop everything for Connor am I right?'_

_"Fuck off."_

That wasn't a great idea, but Connor is not a great person, nor is he in a great mood, so his logic is a bit hazy at the moment.

He thinks he hears Cynthia interject with a quick _"language"_ but that's all she really ever contributes to any conversation anymore. He definitely hears footsteps, angry footsteps. Larry's footsteps.

It's too goddamn early for this.

And just as he walks in, Connor's phone buzzes in his hand.

Fucking hell Squeak.

"Who are you texting?" He's standing intimidatingly in the doorway, and Connor tries to match the look as best he can while sitting in the middle of his floor in dinosaur pajamas.

"Nobody," he says, as his phone lights up with another text.

Now would be a good time for death. Pleasepleaseplease can someone just. Smite him? Right now?

Larry gives him a stern look, crossing the room and making a successful grab for his phone.

"Who is 'squeak?' Is that a street name? Is he your drug dealer?"

And. It's quite impressive with how quickly he can bullshit such a thing.

"What? No, he's not- it's none of your fucking business _Larry." _Usually the use of his first name gets him a warning glance at most, but this time. This time Connor's not getting a warning.

"What's your password?"

That sparks something in him. Fear. "I'm not telling you- _stop_ it." He stands abruptly, hand reaching out for his phone. "What are you doing?" It's too late. He figured out the password.

"I will _not_ tolerate drug use under my roof."

Panic flares through him. _"What are you doing?" _ It came out a little more frantic than he was going for, and now Larry really thinks something is up. He runs to his side, peering over his shoulder to get a peek at the screen.

He's blocking the contact.

Which is fine, he can just unblock him later.

Larry must have some sort of mind reading powers, because as soon as Connor relaxes, he hesitates.

And then deletes it.

He draws in a sharp breath, snatching the phone from the others hands and staring at the screen.

The screen now rid of Evan.

**"What the_ fuck." _**And now he's shouting, and his heart rate is increasing from both anger and panic.

"Don't you **_dare_** yell at me." He crosses his arms, holding out his hand expectantly. "Give me the phone. _Now._ It stays with me until you learn how to behave like an adult."

Connor almost spits out some snarky comment like, _'oh, so you can yell at me but I can't yell at you?' _ He holds himself back. Barely. He clenches his hands into fists, nails digging painfully into flesh.

Thank god he doesn't say that.

Instead he says, "I'll act like an adult when you act like a parent."

What a save.

Connor thinks he can _see_ his fathers blood vessels popping out of his forehead. He grabs the youngers wrist, yanking the phone away with his other hand.

_**"I am your father, and you will treat me with respect."** _

** _"Then fucking act like it."_ **

_Stopstopstopstop, stop talking now. _

** _"Get out of my goddamn house."_ **

A beat.

_"What?"_

"You heard me." Larry's upper lip twitches the way an animals does when they're about to bite your face. "And don't come back until you're ready to show some respect."

And then he's tromping out of his room and down the stairs, probably to his office to cool down, with Connor's phone in hand.

Evan.

He blocked Evan.

Which means he's probably freaking out right now.

Connor's sort of freaking out right now too. Because this is all his fault, and his best friend is probably having a panic attack right now, and he just got kicked out of the house for god knows how long, and Zoe's _fucking _music is back on.

And now he's panicking, hands unclenching and fisting into his hair as he falls back onto his bed. He opens his mouth, panting like a dog because for some reason he can't fucking breathe properly, and he's still _really_ angry and kind of wants to punch the shit out of something. Or someone. 

Starships is playing, and while Connor never was a fan of Nicki Minaj, now he wants to throttle her stupid fucking plastic face. He wants to throttle Zoe for blasting her stupid fucking song in the first place.

He tightens his grip on his hair, pulling at the follicles and screaming, long and drawn out.

Trapped, Connor is trapped, claustrophobic, panicking, _angry._

He's had enough.

** _"Zoe, shut the fuck up or I swear to god I will kill you."_ **

The music stops quickly after that. Not that it matters anymore. Connor's leaving. That's what Larry wanted right?

He gets up, grabbing a shirt and pair of pants from his dresser and quickly changing, throwing a hoodie over the whole ensemble and grabbing his satchel.

Down the stairs, past Cynthia (who's been crying from the looks of it), and out the door.

* * *

Connor's been walking for a while. He doesn't really know where he's going, he just sort of. Took off. All he knows is that he's going in the opposite direction of the orchard, so that is out of the question.

Everyone tells you to walk off your anger, which isn't really working for Connor. In fact, he's just even more mad because he hates walking.

By the time he gets to an actual landmark (Ellison Park, he notes), he feels as if he's about to burst. Or cry, and- he's crying now. Great. And now he's angry at himself, because he's crying, and crying also makes him angry.

The park is usually full of people. Walking their dogs, or tourists stopping to take pictures. It's empty today. Connor can see why now as he looks up at the grey, cloudy sky. He shivers, tucking his hands in his pockets.

He's glad there's nobody here. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this, because he can't really breathe again. He sits against a tree and- the ground is wet. Fuck. Usually that would make him mad.

Instead he just cries some more.

Because nothing is going his way today. It's almost as if the world wants him dead. He wouldn't be surprised. _Connor_ wants Connor dead.

He's pathetic. Connor is_ weak_, and _pathetic_, and _alone._

Alone.

_Alonealonealonealone-_

He's alone for a reason.

Because he's a terrible fucking person.

He yelled at Zoe.

He told her he was going to kill her. Which. He would never do obviously. He was just angry, and scared, and _he didn't mean it._ Connor would never hurt her.

But Zoe doesn't know that does she?

He swears audibly, running a shaky hand through tangled hair. 

You know what would be great right now?

Weed.

Or you know. Fuckin death.

It's. Ironic considering drugs are what got him into this mess. Or actually Evan got him into this. Yeah, this is Evan's fault for having such terrible fucking timing. Connor's not the bad one here.

But Evan didn't make Cynthia cry, or Zoe afraid to leave her room, or Larry late for work. Evan didn't swear and scream and cause a scene. Evan didn't do any of that. Connor did.

So maybe it's a little bit Connor's fault.

He really needs that weed right about now.

Satchel, there's some in his satchel. That's the whole reason he bothered bringing the damn thing. He reaches his hand inside, ruffling through hair ties and a couple books he tossed in there during the school year.

His hands land on something slim. Furrowing his brow, he grasps onto the object and pulls it out.

Ah.

Pocket knife.

That's a thing.

He sort of loses track of how long he spend staring at it. He doesn't know what he's expecting to happen, what he wants to happen. So he just stares.

And then he flicks it open.

The blade is clean, of course it's clean. With a thing like this, you've got to take care of it. Keep it pristine. It is a nice pocket knife. Connor wonders where he got it.

He's forgotten about the weed.

This could work better.

And for a moment the decision seems so plain. Simple.

Because Connor is a_ badbadbad_ person that doesn't let himself think about the consequences of his actions. He's brash, and impulsive, and once he's set his mind to something, _nobody's_ gonna be able to change it.

It's not like he can find a reason why he _shouldn't._

Zoe's afraid of him, Larry wishes he wasn't his son, Cynthia has given up, and Evan.

Evan isn't really in the picture. Not anymore.

And maybe that's for the best. Maybe that'll make this easier for him.

It's bold to assume he'd even care.

The thought of Evan not caring sort of makes him want to die even _more _now. Because Connor cares. Connor cares about him more than he'd like to admit. In his opinion, he likes Evan a little _too much_ if you know what he means.

Which is another thing to hate about his fucking life. God placed a cute boy in front of him with a flashing sign saying _Do Not Touch_. It's like Adam and Eve with the apple- Evan being the apple-, except there is no snake, and nothing is tempting him to break the signs rules but himself. Or maybe that makes the snake Connor. Yeah that sounds about right.

This is a bad analogy.

He's getting off track. He should get to it.

He runs a finger down the side of the blade, like they do in the movies and- fuck he's bleeding. It's sharp alright.

Which is. Good.

And this is it. The moment they've all been waiting for.

Connor Murphy is finally killing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a sad chapter. I sort of wanted to explore the differences the boys have when it comes to suicide. Evan is more compulsive. He fixates on it, plays with the ideas in his head. Connor is just impulsive. He doesn't take time to think things through, he doesn't try and convince himself otherwise. He just acts. 
> 
> And fucking Larry am I right?


	11. August 19th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, here comes the angst train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyheyhey, so sorry for disappearing. I've had a really weird form of writers block where all I can really find the inspiration and motivation to do anything but edit until my eyes bleed. Seriously. The last piece I wrote (which I still haven't finished) I deleted three times because it wasn't satisfactory enough. I'm going crazyyy. I've still scrapped any hope of an update schedule. 
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Talk of suicide attempt

It's been a week. Exactly seven days.

Evan isn't doing well.

Especially when he receives a text. 

Connor: can i come over?

And. Evan almost doesn't believe it is real. Because Connor blocked him, Connor _loathes _him, there isn't a single reason Evan can think of that would warrant him coming over. Maybe he just wants to stop by to. Punch him in the face. Or something.

_Yeah, sure._ Delete, backbackback

_Why? _Nope. Delete.

_What the fuck Connor. Are you serious? Please, do not come over, I don't want to see you right now. Give me some time to think. You blocked me, and then disappeared for a week, and that's not something I'll take lightly. Do you know how upset I was?_

Uh. Yeah, there is no way he's sending that.

_Are we going to pretend like nothing happened then or??? _That's better. Slightly less rage fueled.

Evan: Are we going to pretend like nothing happened then or???

A notification. Evan almost expects the error message telling him he's been blocked again to appear.

Connor: please

_No. _Wrong. Delete.

_Yes. _Also wrong. backspacebackspacebackspace.

Evan: You can try. It's raining pretty hard out.

* * *

It's been five minutes. It usually takes him about fifteen minutes to drive, so he should be here in about ten, which is the perfect amount of time to prepare a long, angry speech to tell Connor when he arrives. It's actually quite brilliant. Evan's sort of proud of his argument, he makes some solid points.

***

By the time he's finished and performed it in the bathroom mirror several times over, it's been thirteen minutes. Meaning Connor should be here by now.

***

It's been fifty four minutes and counting. Connor isn't here yet. Maybe he had no intention to in the first place. Maybe he was just trying to get his hopes up, before ultimately crushing them and blocking him once more. With that, he rushes upstairs to his phone.

Still unblocked. Whew.

That doesn't erase the fact that Connor is _reallyreally_ late. He exhales shakily, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath.

It will be ok.

***

Seventy one minutes had passed before the doorbell rung.

Evan's speech has been well rehearsed. He takes a deep breath, then another, before grabbing the handle and opening the door to see a very thoroughly soaked Connor.

His words dissolve in his mouth, the way cotton candy would, except it's not at all pleasant. It's more like. A piece of garbage that's been converted into an Alka-Seltzer tablet. 

They stand there for a little bit. Just. Staring at each other. Evan doesn't really know what to say and neither does Connor.

He steps back, sweeping his arm out behind him. A silent invitation to come inside.

***

A wet, sobbing Connor is sat in the living room. Or Evan thinks he's sobbing. His shoulders are either shaking from tears or cold, maybe both.

He gets him a towel, some tea, and sits him on the couch. It seems like the right thing to do, but to be honest, he’s just guessing.

He has a sort of far away look in his eyes. It’s starting to freak him out a bit. Actually, the fact that he showed up in the middle of a storm on the verge of hyperventilation is freaking him out. He _walked_ here. Jesus Christ.

He gently sits on the couch beside him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. When Connor doesn’t immediately flinch away, he scoots closer, wrapping his arms around him. 

He’ll ask him about it later.

* * *

Evan wakes up on the couch at seven o‘clock full body hugging Connor like a sloth. 

His first though is _ ‘oh fuck, shit, get off getoffgetoffgetoff,’ _before he releases him and promptly rolls onto the floor.

His second being, _ ‘mom’s gonna be home any minute and now really isn’t the time to explain this, but I can’t wake Connor up because he really needs the sleep, oh god oh fuck.’ _

Connor twitches, eyes scrunching before blinking open. 

Crisis averted.

“Why are you on the floor?” 

Evan blushes. “I must have… Fell.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…” He shakes his head, standing up and stretching until his joints give a satisfying crack. Evan cringes. He's going to break his bones one of these days. “Um, my mom’s shift ends at half past so unless we want to run into her, we should probably find some other place to go.”

“Ok, I can just. Go home.”

“No that’s. Not what I meant. Um, the orchard. We can talk at the orchard.” A beat. “If that’s ok with- I want to ask you some things. If that’s ok.”

Connor sighs, studying his nails. “Yeah, I assumed you’d want to. It’s, uh fine. You can.”

“Ok. Ok um. Do you want breakfast? We have…” He pauses, rifling through the kitchen. “Fuck, we need to go grocery shopping. We have stale cereal if that is appealing to you.”

“Yeah that’s perfect.”

***

Connor does in fact, put the milk before the cereal, which is a cursed thing in Evan’s opinion. What happens if you pour too much milk? You can’t go back and pour _ less _ milk. So you’ll end up having to compensate by adding more cereal as well, but then you’ll pour more cereal then you can eat and _ that’s _ a problem. The whole thing makes Evan so anxious, he adds it to the _ List of Things That Make Evan Anxious. _

Connor seems to notice him staring down his bowl of cereal like it just murdered his entire family, because he gives him a questioning look that Evan brushes off with an awkward smile.

***

They’ve just sat down under a tree, and Evan grimaces when he realizes the ground is slightly wet. He pulls his jacket down underneath him to add a barrier between him and the damp grass. Connor stares at the ground, much like how Evan was staring at his cereal before crouching awkwardly, keeping himself from touching the grass.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Why were you- you didn’t- you blocked me? And you didn't tell me why... That wasn't- you scared me. A lot.”

"Larry deleted your number from my phone."

He squawks. "What, why?" That doesn't seem like something a parent should have power over.

"Because he's a fucking psychopath." A pause. "I would have texted you sooner if I could have. Had to figure out how to restore a contact. _And,_ I couldn't get my phone until I was out of the hospital so. There's that too. Reception interferes with the equipment and shit. I did _not_ want to hijack grandmas life support."

Evan feels his heart keel over and die. “_ Waitwaitwait, _ you were in the hospital? Why- why were you in- are you ok?” 

“Physically, I should be fine.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.” 

_"It's not a big fucking deal ok?"_

...

"I. Didn't mean to yell like that."

"I forgive you."

"I didn't say I was sorry."

Evan shuts up after that. So does Connor, who is becoming cagier by the second.

Without a word, the brunet silently peels back his jacket sleeves, revealing thick white bandages on both his arms. 

Oh.

It hits Evan like a bag of bricks. No, not a bag of bricks. Something bigger. Like a truck, or a bus- what’s bigger than a bus? An excavator. It hits Evan like an excavator.

“Oh, Connor. You… You didn’t um.” He pauses, exhaling shakily. “I didn’t know.”

When he looks back at Connor, he sees him blinking rapidly, frustratedly trying to rid the moisture from his eyes. 

He almost says he gets it, because he really does, but Connor doesn’t need for him to make it about him right now.

“Larry and I got in a fight.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, um. That’s why… I had to get out of the house yesterday. Away from him.”

“Why were you- do you mind me asking why you guys fought?”

He clenches his jaw, ripping up piles of grass and falls silent. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have-”

“No, don’t apologize.” He goes quiet again. 

***

When Connor speaks again, Evan almost forgets what he’s talking about.

“He said it was for attention.”

“Oh.” He pales. “Oh my God Connor I’m so- I’m so sorry, that’s not- not good…”

He’s never met Larry. He doesn’t have to. He already hates him. 

“If you ever need a place to stay you can- you can come to my place? And you can sleep there until- as long as you need. I’m sure my mom won’t mind.” Right. Heidi wouldn't mind. After she gets over the fact that he's had a secret friend for a number of months.

“Thank you.”

***

“Not to be like _ that _but- considering the circumstances- you should probably answer those,” he says when Connors phone buzzes for the seventeenth time. (Seventeen. He counted.) “Just to let them know you’re alive.”

“Yeah probably.”

He doesn’t move.

***

“Hey, why haven't we gone to A La Mode yet? We walk by it every time we come here but never… Do you want to go?”

“I wasn’t expecting to make a nine AM ice cream run. I didn’t bring money.”

“Well I did so. I can pay." He never leaves the house without at least a couple small bills. Anything could happen while you're out. "My mom says that ice cream can heal everything, and you have to believe her ‘cause she’s a nurse.”

Connors lips quirk in a barely there smile. He takes it as a victory. 

***

“Just so you know, I’d- I’d care. A _ lot. _If you…”

He glances up at Evan through his eyelashes, giving a short nod.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't hate Larry until I got to the "He said that for attention" bit. That made me go haywire. But other than that, I honestly think he's redeemable.


	12. August 31st, & September 1st & 2nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School nears closer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: teensy weensy bit of suicidal thoughts
> 
> RIGHT sorry for the wait. I promise I will not abandon this work. Ever. No matter what. Unless I die of COVID-19.

They don't talk about it. Evan doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, because he's not really sure how Connor would react if he'd brought it up again. Hell, Evan doesn't even know how he himself would react. He'd probably cry. Yeah, he would definitely cry.

Though it would be good to talk about it rather than pretend like it never happened, like they both seem to be doing.

He decides neither of them are ready for that yet. And he especially doesn't want to ruin the smile Connor has on his face as he catches a glance at him though his peripheral vision. It's a nice smile, a closed mouth grin that is so perfectly _Connor_ in every way. It almost makes him break out into a smile too, but he supposes that would look sort of weird.

Instead, he groans, falling back onto the bed _(Evan's _bed, but the other seems to have claimed partial ownership of it with how long he spends in it) Connor occupies and directly onto the emo's stomach. He wheezes as the air releases from his lungs. “What the _ fuck.” _

Evan pretends like he wasn't just impaled by his ribs. Connor needs to eat more.

“Pay attention to me.”

“I am.” Evan glares mockingly at the phone in his hand. “I’m multitasking.” 

"Who are you talking to then?" That would explain the smile. It's probably a girl. A pretty girl. A girl who is much better than Evan, considering the fact he seems more engrossed with whoever she is than him. And if so, why hasn't he told him about her? Is he embarrassed? Does he have something to hide?

Evan's getting ahead of himself.

He really wants to know who he's talking to.

"What's her name?" he asks, in a way he hopes is sly. (It's not)

He watches as Connor's grin turns into a confused frown. "What?"

"The girl you're texting. Is she cute?" He articulates the t, adding a short laugh for measure, because Evan's not jealous, not at all. He's just. Curious. Which is completely normal, he has nothing to be jealous of, Evan just wants to know the girl who managed to capture his best friends heart. And maybe ask how she did it.

So maybe, Evan realizes, he's a bit jealous.

Connor doesn't reply, just barks out a laugh and shakes his head before going back to his phone.

He didn't deny it.

Connor must notice Evan's still waiting for an answer because his brow tilts in confusion. "You're serious?"

A nod.

“You know I’m... Gay. Right?”

Evan did not know this.

This is news.

This is some really good news.

“I sorta thought it was obvious." He sits up, effectively jostling Evan onto his legs. If he thought his stomach was uncomfortable, he was wrong, because _'his legs are actual sticks oh my God.'_ His knees are digging into his back. He thinks of just moving off of him, but that would mean accepting defeat, and Evan is not a coward. "Or that _you'd_ have been able to tell? Isn't that like, a thing? A gaydar?"

He lifts his head to look at him. "What does that mean?" he asks, because he's really quite curious as to what _'I thought you'd have been able to tell' _with emphasis on the _you _means.

Connor looks sort of bewildered. "Well I just thought- since you are- you are too aren't you?" When it seems to be Evan still doesn't get it, he gives up. "Never mind, um. I’m just checking the register. School schedules come out today, I wanna know if I got into all my electives.” 

The bitter taste is back in his mouth, and worse than ever. “_Nonono _don’t mention-” He drops his voice down to a whisper. “The ‘S’ word.”

“Is that what this is about?” He gestures to Evan who lets out a suffering sigh. He regrets it, because now Connor's knees are digging deeper and deeper into Evan's back until he's convinced the bones have actually pierced through his skin.

“Mayyybe.” 

He hums. “I know one thing that might help.”

“Which is?”

“Weed.”

He giggles, rolling off the others legs. “Ok.”

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Like. Really really?"

_"Yes _Connor."

A beat.

"That was a fucking_ joke, _Squeak jeez I've corrupted you haven't I?"

* * *

There is a back to school ad on the radio. 30% off all summer wear, and a sale on jeans!

Exciting.

The thought of school starting back up does not resonate with Evan. At all. A sort of bad heavy feeling settles in the space between his ribs, and a light crease settles in between his brows, and he feels sort of sick. It's just not. Good. He doesn't like it. He doesn't like school, because school means no Connor and that means no friends. School means actually working and that means he has the crippling pressure to perform well in his classes, and that means he has to be _perfect. _Things have to be perfect, and immaculate, and error free and _perfect. _Which would be a breeze if Evan was naturally good at school. Like Alana Beck. She's brilliant. She probably doesn't have to put any effort into "exemplifying the symbolism of the colour red in_ Catcher in the Rye"_. Evan does. Evan doesn't fucking care for finding the deeper meaning of a stupid red hat. '_It's a hat why must we overthink what a hat means? It's to shield your face from the sun.' _

Though he can't pretend like he didn't get a 98% on that essay. He hated every second of writing it, but he's not about to throw away a good grade because he's too "uncultured" to care for such things.

Moral of the story: School is a hell hole and he doesn't appreciate Connor, or the car stereo, or that one poster he saw on a telephone pole reminding him he only has three precious days of vacation left.

Three fucking days.

It's amazing how much time flies by when you're not paying attention and also don't care. Well. Evan cares now. He didn't before, when he assumed he had loads of time, but now he realizes he doesn't so. Evan cares a whole lot.

God, he wishes Conner and him hadn't smoked all of the weed yesterday.

That's sort of a bad thought isn't it? Evan has the fleeting worry that his weed thing is going to become a problem. Can you get addicted to weed? Is that a thing? Evan wouldn't know. He doesn't know a lot of things.

Connor bursts his thought bubble. "We should do something. Something exciting. Commit. Crimes. Teenage rebellion. Set the community hall ablaze, vandalize public property, shoplift. Are you down with murder."

Evan laughs, and then does a double take as he relays the others words in his mind.

Of all the things Evan has to worry about, he never fathomed having to talk his best friend out of murder as something to add to his list of _Things That Make Evan Anxious. _

"No Connor. I'm not down with murder," he finalizes, staring at him with an incredulous look. "And just for the sake of it- who exactly are you looking to murder?" It's probably him. Connor definitely wants to murder Evan. Evan sort of wants to murder Evan.

"Relax-" he's cut off with a firm glare. Connor knows better than to tell him that. "Right, sorry never mind uh. _Don't _relax? I'm not actually looking to murder anyone, and if I did I would _not_ be dragging you into that. You're a terrible liar."

Murder aside, Evan will not stand for slander. He's a _wonderful_ liar, though wonderful may not be the correct adjective to describe someone's ability to deceive. Due to his constant state of worry, his truths are difficult to differentiate between his lies.

It's not like Evan will voice it aloud. He finds it's easier to slip into the background when people underestimate you.

"But we only have three days left so. We have to do things. Before I leave."

"I have a feeling you already know what we're doing today."

He smiles, small and genuine. "Right you are Squeaky."

"Since when have you called me _Squeaky?" _

"Since- now. Fuck you." Though his tone holds some semblance of humor, Evan can tell he closes off slightly.

He rushes to reassure the brunet. "It's fine, I like it. It's cutesy."

"Yeah, well you are pretty cute."

Evan feels his soul leave his body.

"Alright lets go be teenage delinquents."

***

In the end, they only end up at the orchard, though Connor insists that it technically counts, because the orchard is private property and trespassing is an illegal thing- even though the Murphy's know the owners well and have granted their family to visit as they wish. It's alright though, Evan doesn't think he could live with doing something _actually _illegal.

In the end he's just happy to be with his friend.

* * *

The next day, Evan slyly pulls Connor through his front door. "Your idea of fun may involve dubious morality, but mine is _this."_ He brandishes his arm fluidly to the living room which has been transformed into a pile of blankets and pillows. Microwave popcorn sits on the table next to a stack of movie discs. "What do you think?"

"We're going to watch..." He trails off, grabbing a DVD. "Harry Potter one through eight? This is your idea of fun?"

"Well." Evan falters. "It's fine if you don't want to, it was just an idea and I thought since it's sort of gross out today it'd be cool to- I thought we could do _this. _But it was just an idea and it's probably stupid- we don't _have_ to do this I know you probably want to do something more exciting and stuff so it's really no big deal."

"No it's fine, it's a good idea," he says, though he knows that Connor is just saying that to appease him. "I warn you, I'm a movie talker."

***

If it were anyone else, Evan would have probably beat them half to death with a pillow, and by that he means he would stare at the pillow and will it to do the beating for him. Evan doesn't want that kind of blood on his hands.

But it's Connor. So rules don't really apply to him.

***

They only end up getting half way through the third movie when it starts to get dark.

Evan ruffles his hair, grimacing when his hand comes out greasy. He should wash it soon. "Will I see you tomorrow or will you be busy packing?"

"Yeah, no Larry will be on my ass to get my shit together for school so. I'll be pretty busy."

"Ok." He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "Ok."

Evan suddenly feels very small.

"I'll come back. For the vacations. Winter, spring, and summer."

He doesn't want to wait until winter. He _can't_ wait until winter.

_'Selfish.' _

"We can text though. Or call?" At Evan's grimace he huffs out a laugh. "Maybe not call."

"Promise to keep in touch?" He gingerly holds out a pinky, shooting him a shy smile, but quickly relaxes as a grin stretches across the others face.

"You are such a nerd oh my god." He links his pinky in Evan's, shaking their hands up and down to seal it.

"You know." He pauses, mostly for dramatic affect. "In Japan, it's said that if a pinky promise is broken, you have to cut off your pinky."

"Squeak," he says surprisedly. "If I didn't know better I'd say that was a threat,"

"Oh it is."

They laugh. Evan ignores the fact that this is likely the last time he'll be hearing it in a long time.

* * *

Squeak:  Hey.

Connor:  jesus christ i left your house ten minutes ago

It’s more like fourteen minutes. He decides not to point that out.

Squeak:  I know, but I forgot to say something.

Connor:  then speak

Technically, they’re texting so no speaking is actually involved. He decides not to point that out either.

Squeak:  I had a very long and emotional speech planned out but then I forgot to write it down so.

Connor:  sounds pretty gay

It’s weird how Connor can make him blush without even physically being there.

Squeak:  No homo intended.

He hesitates before typing: 

Squeak:  Just kidding, full homo.

Squeak:  I’m in love with you Brandon.

Connor:  you did not just quote a vine to me

Squeak:  I'm sorry, but not really.

They’ve gotten off topic.

Squeak:  But back to the point.

Squeak:  I just wanted to say that you're my best friend and I'm going to miss you a lot. Don't do anything stupid while you're away, I won't be able to stop you from being a dumbass and trying to eat glue.

He sent it without re-reading it. He knew if he did, he’d edit it down until it was nothing.

Connor:  ok multiple points

Connor:  1: youre my best friend too fuck

Connor: 2: that was ONE time. i was high im not gonna eat glue you bitch

***

When Evan looks at the clock, he sees 2:52AM flashing in red block text.

Squeak:  It’s late. We should both go to bed.

He doesn’t want to stop talking. He wants to spend every second he can with him.

Connor:  yeah probably

Connor:  goodnight and goodbye i guess

His head hurts a bit, because he _ really _doesn’t want to cry right now, and holding back tears is a lot harder than you’d think.

Squeak:  Goodnight and goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaydar: A built in sixth sense gay people have for detecting other gay people
> 
> This has not been edited, I repeat THIS HAS NOT BEEN EDITED. I wrote most of this in one go because I just really wanted to get it posted. I'm so behind on updates. I'll come back tomorrow and see if it's absolute garbage or not.


	13. September 4th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Sensory overload, panic attack

This is not Evan’s day.

He feels like he should give it a fair chance because it’s not even seven o'clock, but.

He can just tell.

His skin feels wrong. It feels tight, and hot, and wrong. He’s uncomfortable, really uncomfortable. He thinks he slept on his arm funny, because it’s tingly like static, and it’s wrong. Everything feels wrong. 

He goes to move, or open his eyes, something. Anything to prove to himself that he’s alive. Evan doesn’t feel alive, but he also doesn’t feel dead- not that he knows what dead feel like. 

His eyes open, and immediately shut. Burning. They burn badly. Maybe he’ll wait to open his eyes.

He could get up. Or not. He doesn’t think he’s ready for that. Instead, he curls his hand into a loose fist, then back. Repeat. That’s not so bad. He can get up. He should get up. School will start soon. 

_ “Evan, get up.” _

Too loud. That was much too loud for Evan, and now he’s squeezing his eyes shut, and digging his nails into his palms because he’s much to aware of how loud everything is. 

The birds chip, a clock ticks (Evan can’t for the life of him figure out where it’s coming from), Heidi bustles around downstairs getting ready for work, and it’s _ so loud. _

He wants to scream, scream at everything to _ ‘shut up shutupshutupshutup please,’ _ but that would require using his vocal chords, and to be honest, he’s not sure they’re working at the moment.

_ “Evan, up.” _

***

Getting dressed is harder today.

The material feels scratchy in his hands, and the rubbing sensation of it against his burning skin is _ not _ pleasant. Even his comfort hoodie feels all wrong.

He finally settles on a soft grey tee-shirt, and some jeans. He’d rather wear his khakis, but they’re in the wash, so the scratchy, burning denim will have to do.

“What took you so long?” For the first time in a while, Evan takes a good look at his mom as he steps into the kitchen. He’s only seen her in passing as she rushes to get out of the door, or when she drops in to say goodnight. 

She looks tired, obviously, with how hard she’s been working these past few months. (For him, Evan may add. _ Burden. _) Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail. Heidi has nice hair. Curly, blonde, bouncy. Now it looks… Sad? Sad probably isn’t the right word for it. It looks wrong. 

“Sorry just-” how to word this. “I’m not feeling great today?” Heidi frowns, stepping closer to place a hand over his forehead. “Not- not that kind of sick.” He bats the hand away, immediately regretting it when he sees the slightly wounded look on her face. 

She can’t help with this one. Heidi is a nurse. She treats scrapes and bruises, the things you can see, and touch, and fix. 

Heidi can’t fix Evan.

He wishes she could. He wishes she could take his pain away like she does with her patients, but she can’t. He thinks she wishes for the same. 

“Are you taking your medication?”

“Yes mom.”

She nods, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Do you want a drive to school? First day back. Isn’t it exciting?”

“Yeah. Exciting.”

He’s just burdening her.

She probably has to get to work, she doesn’t have time to drive him to school. It’s in walking distance. He could walk. 

“Um, sure.” _ ‘Selfish, burden, liability, stupid, stupid, stupid, _ ** _stop it_ ** _ .’ _“You could drive me.”

She smiles, grabbing her keys from the counter and throwing on a jacket over her scrubs. “We’d better go then. Don’t want to be late on your first day.” 

Selfish. 

***

“You look like shit.”

Oh, well who could that be?

“Hi Jared.” 

Jared, clad in a graphic tee paired with a flannel- a unique combination, but who is Evan to judge?- strolls over to him, a smirk already in place. “Something keeping you up at night? Or someone?”

It’s too early for this.

“No just- I wasn’t-” why does he even try? “I wasn’t doing that.”

“Right.” 

Change the subject. Please, for the love of God change the subject. “So um- what classes do you have?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Well I was just checking to- I wanted to see if we had some classes together? Because- because we’re friends?” 

“Hold up.” He smiles in a very punchable way, grabbing his shoulder. “We’re family friends. There’s a difference.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

“Hey, don’t forget to tell your mom to tell my mom that I was nice to you. They're thinking of buying me a car next month so. Don't want to get their panties in a twist.” Jared shoots him some finger guns, which Evan does not return. He doesn’t seem bothered by it though, instead, flashing him one more smirk before rejoining with what Evan assumes are his tech friends. 

***

This year is off to a great start.

Such a great start, that Evan swiftly walks to the art room and locks the door behind him just as he feels his heart rate accelerate. Such a great start that he feels his skin grow uncomfortable again, his vision blur, his ears cloud until all he can hear is his own heartbeat. 

That’s how he spends first period. Hiding in the luckily vacant art room. Pressed against the wall with his hands planted to the floor trying to bring him down from the sky. Ground him, because right now he is flying which is just making Evan more anxious. Fumbling for his medication, which he just happened to leave on his bedside table, leaving Evan to _ panicpanicpanic _ until he can’t anymore. Until he slowly floats back down to the ground.

He brings two shaky fingers up to his neck, placing them under his jawline. 

He lets out a sigh of relief when he feels it. His pulse. It’s still a little fast, and irregular, but it’s there and that’s all Evan really cares about right now.

He’s alive. He survived. He’s ok. 

He’s ok.


	14. This is NOT an update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important y’all, please read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be deleting this once a new chapter is up and ready, but I don’t know how long that will be. I promise this will not be abandoned though.

I’m so sorry but I’m afraid the next chapter will not be for a long while. A few weeks ago the laptop which I use for all my writing, finally conked out. I don’t blame it, it was ancient so. I no longer have anything to write on. 

I’m using my phone to write this, but I am n o t going to be writing, editing, and posting full length chapters from my phone. No way am I doing that. It is horrific to write on this thing, and impossible to edit.

So. I’m really sorry please don’t beat me up. Hopefully in the next few months I’ll be able to get a new one. 

Until then, I hope the quarantine is treating you guys well! Stay safe y’all. 

**Author's Note:**

> I feed of validation. You have no idea how happy it makes me to read your guys' comments. I can never stop smiling like an idiot. So don't be afraid to comment and kudos.
> 
> I also love constructive criticism, so feel free to point out if I made any mistakes. With this is mind be nice about it, because if I read something passive aggressive I Will Cry.


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